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There were stripes in the musician's shirt like a Persian tent, but it was as clean and unwrinkled as if he had that moment put it on. Banjo Gibson if he had any other christened name, it was unknown to men was an original. As Nola had said, he belonged back a few hundred years, when musical proficiency was not so common as now.
He held his rank as Major in the United States army, and wore his uniform as though it were his skin, clean, unwrinkled and handsome, with that gorgeous quality of unconscious pride that is, after all, the West Pointer's real grace.
His wife, accustomed from many years of sky searching to look for trouble there, saw the unwrinkled expanse and took heart. Her husband answered her polite morning inquiries with sufficient attention, although he was palpably preoccupied and in no mood for casual conversation.
"The Ledger does not recognize conditional resignation." "Very well." Banneker's smile was as sunny and untroubled as a baby's. "I suppose you appreciate that some one must cover this kind of news." "Yes. It will have to be some one else." The faintest, fleeting suspicion of a frown troubled the Brahminical calm of Mr. Greenough's brow, only to pass into unwrinkled blandness.
"I don't know, of course, how far your wife's family are aware of what people say about well, about Madame Olenska's refusal to accept her husband's latest offer." Archer was silent, and Mr. Jackson obliquely continued: "It's a pity it's certainly a pity that she refused it." "A pity? In God's name, why?" Mr. Jackson looked down his leg to the unwrinkled sock that joined it to a glossy pump.
He never compassed even a smoothness approaching this description of a nightingale's song by a third-rate poet of the earlier school, "Trails her plain ditty in one long-spun note Through the sleek passage of her open throat, A clear, unwrinkled song," one of whose beauties is its running over into the third verse. Those poets indeed "Felt music's pulse in all her arteries ";
Where was the smile that was wont to twinkle in his merry eye like the sparkle of a diamond and to play saucily about his lips where the unwrinkled serenity of his brow and the defiantly audacious demeanor of his whole handsome person? He was slowly striding up and down with a gloomy fire in his eye, a deeply-lined brow, and his head sunk on his breast: and yet it was not bowed with sorrow.
I should hardly take him to be sixty, however, his hair being more dark than gray, his forehead unwrinkled, his features unwithered, his eye undimmed, though his beard is somewhat venerable. . . .
Speech is all that is wanting to make them human. During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure. His hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent.
Twilight and morning dew, I love it, I love it, Do you, do you, do you?" This was the thrush's love-song. Now it was light enough for Winsome to read hers by the red light of the midsummer's dawn. This was Ralph's Greek exercise: "Sweet mouth, red lips, broad unwrinkled brow, Sworn troth, woven hands, holy marriage vow, Unto us make answer, what is wanting now?
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